


In her wings

by Nobodybitesherlip



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobodybitesherlip/pseuds/Nobodybitesherlip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal asks every night if he wants to be a Raven. By now he barely has to nod, only catch her eye. But Diaval is curious, if he can curl up by Maleficent every night as a raven, what would it be like to sleep as a man?</p><p>"Don't step on my feathers."</p><p>"What d'ya think I am, a dog?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In her wings

**Author's Note:**

> This is just fluff. I ship these two so hard, but I personally think Maleficent is ace. Gah, why are they so perfect though. Set after the events of the film! 
> 
> (I also wrote this at 1am after seeing the film for a second time, I'm SO TIRED if it makes no sense forgive me.)

Mal asks every night if he wants to be a Raven. 

Over the years they have learned this way of communicating with a caw, with a nod of the head, with inclination of a shoulder, a hand. She asks, now, though she used not to, and he agrees to whatever it is. Normally. The calm evenings as the water ripples and the sun dips down lower, warmer, are no different. Since she asked him a few times, now he only has to catch her eye and he's weightless, then feathered and winged, then curled up beneath Maleficent's chin as she falls asleep, cocooned in her wings in her tree. 

Tonight though, she's sleepy. Maleficent looks up from her seat on a root raises a hand to cast the change, but Diaval holds up his hand. "One second."

"Hm?"

"I think I want to try being a human tonight."

Maleficent rolls her shoulders so her feathers ruffle.

"What?"

"I just want to see what it's like."

Mal blinks a little, and focuses on Diaval's keen gaze.

"But where will you sleep?"

"Why," he blinks a few times, "With you? As normal?"

Maleficent narrows her eyes a little but doesn't refuse right away, so that's a good start.

"Is there room?"

"I think so, though I might, er, have to be, sorta,"

"Sort of..."

"In, your wings?"

"In my wings."

Diaval opens his mouth, closes it. Bites his lip. 

"Actually, just forget it, I-"

"No. We can try, if you like, but if it's uncomfortable I'm kicking you out." She rises gracefully, her wings sweeping the floor and looks down at Diaval. 

"...Oh." He nods, slowly. "Alright then." 

Climbing the tree is harder than it looks without wings to lift you up (in just one flap if they're Maleficent's wings) but he's done it before. Tree climbing is one of the reasons no-one really wears shoes in the moors. 

Maleficent is settled like a giant bird of prey on the hammock nest strung between the branches. Her silhouette, so familiar and so new with her curving wings, casts long shadows over Diaval as he climbs onto the adjacent branch. Her shadow watches over you, said Aurora.

"So how do you propose we sleep? My only input will be soon, because I was dozing off waiting for you to slowly crawl up here." Mal yawns languorously and stretches her wings (show off, he thinks) and carefully lies down in the hammock, leaning back into her feathers so she can look up at the sky. With her wings loose she takes up all the room. As a raven he nestles between the crook of her neck and her shoulder, where he can fall asleep to the sound of her breathing. As a man...

The arm of muscle that connects the wings to her shoulders is like, well, an arm, and more than strong enough to lean on, so careful not to fall on Mal he edges up the side of the hammock till he's standing by her waist, just under where her feathers reach. She looks up at him from under her eyelids. 

"You know from this angle you almost look tall."

"Well, would you look at that." 

"Don't step on my feathers."

"What d'ya think I am, a dog?"

Diaval sits down, and gently leans back into the curve of her wing and the gap between feathers and shoulder. It's as soft as a hatchlings nest, and he's careful not to push any of her feathers up the wrong way. Stretched out next to her, his head is resting on her shoulder, she tilts her head into his, causing him to almost catch his breath in surprise. Her affection is usually limited to when he can do naught but squork in return. 

Her wings curl above them, pushed up and over them by the curve of the hammock. As they rest, the wingtips curl back down and the tip-most feathers flutter in the gentle breeze. It's like being in a giant cocoon. Why has he never noticed this as a raven?

"I, er, can I put my arm-"

Mal reaches down to his awkward waving and wraps his arm around her waist, so he is cheek to shoulder with her, his arm around her, and body pressed to her side. Maleficent is already falling asleep, he can hear her breaths growing slower, like he does every night, and he can feel the warmth of her body. He wants to stay awake to watch the stars through his canopy of feathers and branches, but he can feel sleep coming for him as well. Somehow men sleep more solidly than ravens. There is a deep contentment to his thoughts as listens to Mal's breaths and hears her heartbeat. 

As he drifts a thought comes back to him, warmly, nonsensically, as things do as you fall asleep. _I'm not her wings anymore. I'm in her wings._

I'm in her wings.

Mal, in her sleep, raises a hand to stroke his hair.


End file.
